


Incinerated Chains

by Ivecygnus



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Gunshot Wounds, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Obsessive Behavior, Organized Crime, Orphanage, Plot Twists, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Protective Katsuki Yuuri, Protective Victor Nikiforov, Sensory Deprivation, Sexual Content, Soulmates, Switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22600519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivecygnus/pseuds/Ivecygnus
Summary: It took the orphanage Katsuki Yuuri, currently serving as an assassin in a criminal organization, a single bullet of crimson avenge to shatter the chains of his hideous past. Outside, a dancer with smoky wisps of hair disheveled over Yuuri's grey pillow was waiting for him. There is one major difference between themーYuuri Katsuki isn't a spoilt seducer who hides aggravating events and secrets behind the mask of brightness and glory. Together they are healing from the aftermath of their destiny.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Kudos: 14





	1. Sapphire Flames

_Yuuri's legs swoons within the litany ricocheting through the smoke shrouded basement. The lamp was viciously quivering as the flames avidly licked the last sacred drops of oxygenーthe strike of a lighting dimmed under the force of the storm whooshing, malevolent, infusing with the fire which stroked the velvet blackness of the night void. He struggled to lift his body before another cough didn't ripple through his chest, ragged breathing matching the mad sizzling of the crackling flames. It has been a sapphire blaze, words etched on a gravestone, just like the memory he couldn't obliterate even when the stars aligned. He's been left there with lukewarm light from the night sky scratching the bare skin of his back, heart shriveling to dust as his tears rolled down the heated mud, the stone steel cold under his fingertips. He carried all of that insurmountable horror like a shackle, yet so gracefully that it could fit around his finger like a signet. A stamp from hell, or smoke from heaven? Be as it may, he already knew it was simply a sapphire flame._

__

__

"You haven't brought me anything recently, Katsuki," the lingering taint of blood was smeared over the chestnut table where the man shuffled a deck of cards. "You are nothing, but an inferior to me, isn't that clear? You've become too impudent and sweltering for me to handle."

He barks a laughter as the match used for lighting his cigarette, doesn't crackle inside the cheap liquor placed next to a thick folder, with identity sheets. "Someone isn't very talkative tonight," he points at the brilliant brown eyes Yuuri had, undeniably strong and candid, chocolate melted over madness. "I could change that for you."

"Don't be a daft," Yuuri snaps in a split second, tongue as sharp as a razor. "I wouldn't sell myself to you, may the sky fall, I still wouldn't."

There is something arousing about his resistance which the man enjoyed beyond definable. He grits the edges of his teeth, smoke dipped in the stinking, foamy alcohol. He loosens the unfashionable tie from his neck, hand spread to open the folder. It takes the young Japanese a breath to collect his attentionーhis movements indecipherable, voice wavering with a tone that caused Yuuri's stomach to somersault. It's a surprise that the man doesn't prevail with grime or a loaded pistol, there must have been a significant task that caught Yuuri's eye from the moment he saw the deep shade of red, contrasting with the light hue of his skin, a folder being pulled out with a subtly deceitful smile. 

Yuuri's heart pounds with anticipation, gentle shadows growing numerous and dark over the opposing wallーoppressing and predictable, the danger doesn't get you high once you've decided to do better for yourself. "You are quite stubborn. You weren't back then when I offered you a job and took you from the Japanese orphanage. You could be such an unscrupulous prostitute."

"My, my, seems like you believe in yourself," there is a glance of wit within the flames in his narrow eyes, following with precise attention every movement of the older. It has became mechanic reaction to shoot, an unhealthy habbit to speak with no shame. "Are you trying to inflict something?"

"I could be, who knows, Katsuki."

He inhales the smoke a few times, gulping it as if it was a drink. He ignores the churning glares hurling at him, the younger has summoned some assertiveness after all. He wasn't a puppet to possess, and the blood on his hands is fully, independent act of his own.

"Your skin looks a bit pale, haven't you slept well recently?" The mystery around his perfecty round black, purplish circles has finally been solved? As a matter of fact, it was papery, ashen and lacking any brightness or healthy colour.

"I was touched for a moment that you've been concerned by my well being," he crosses his legs nonchalantly, sprawling his body over the chair. "Then I remembered that the word 'concern' and you, just don't fit in the same sentence."

If he could, he would spat in the man's face while smashing his suave, ridiculously distorted face into the floor with his expensive Italian shoes. Teeth by teeth, he'd cackle as the joints crunch underneath his experienced grip. He didn't feel himself falling in reverie, eyes cloaked with unbridled, maniacal irritation. 

"Your demeanor is pulling my chain, Katsuki. I may have some patience left, don't abuse with it or you are out."

"Who is going to serve in your organization if I wasn't here to offer you a hand from time to time?" The vein on his master's temple pulsated with frantic jolts at every unpleasant comment that slipped through Yuuri's mouth, rolling the 'r' throaty, as if he disregarded the Russian accent. 

"You've got a nerve, I see. Then you should see what I have for you as a task. Show some gratitude, if it wasn't for your professional approach in making people disappear from the world in hours, you would have been dead." 

"Oh?" Yuuri snarls, hands damp and quivering with outrage. "I'd like to see you try, I would be your last course meal to devour, before the hungry herd of sheeps you've trained, doesn't pop a bullet in your skull. They all like me because I get so much business done, unlike you." 

"Bold to bite the hand that feeds you," he said in clipped tone, pushing the folder forward. "Note the money offered, it could be a treacherous hit, but it doesn't alter the seriousness of profit offered." 

Suddenly the whole rooms went vague and misty as he opened the documents, seeing a familiar silver hair throwing a soft shadow over blue eyes. His eyes are wide, fingertips pressing on the paper, aghast. He reads cautiously through the information given, noticing the frivolous, loving smile that blinded him with beauty right there. _Victor?_

__

"Someone from the Russian skating federation wants him gone," there is still an impending urge for the younger to shout, so loudly that even the molten magma in the rocks could hear him. "He pays well, if you can't complete it I can find another man." 

Yuuri looked up with loathsome grimace, there the sinful wrath turned the angelic, enticing beauty of his face into a monstrous glare that sent the abode of angels and saints scowling. If death was a sound, it was just the click of his tongue in disapproval, the pearly teeth gritting together mercilessly, the notorious, cloaked in remorse eyes that were darker than usual. If psychotic had exact definition, Yuuri was it's worst version. 

"What?" The man asks innocently, looking at the fists that unfolded over the table. He gulps at the signt which wasn't to beholdーprowess or strong, he couldn't defend himself once Katsuki's button was switched. 

"Nothing," Yuuri reassures and takes his coat, throwing it over his shoulder. After a moment of puzzlement, the older fixes his sleek hair, standing on his feet. "I think the conversation ended." 

"Katsuki, what aboutー" 

_Anger is pain in disguise and loath is love that's been twisted. Blades are sharp, especially when you dance on them. There is certain someone Yuuri is keen on dancing with, he isn't in the room, nor deserves to be placed in that dam' fold. He's a sinner of heaven._

__

__

He turns on his heels, snapping obnoxiously with his figners before a blonde boy didn't rush into the room, shooting at the man as he emptied a whole magazine of bullets. Rivulets of blood formed a puddle of victory under Yuuri's shoes, and he smiles like the whore he was earlier commented to be.

He could publish chronicles of his own crimes and stay unnoticed like the genius he was, competitive, hiding a card up his sleeve like the spade ace stabbed on the wall with a dagger. He was an unconcealed killer. Life is just a fragment of pain, but pain itself shouldn't have been the revenge for one final demise. 

"Yura, take me to the mansion, i've got a job to do tonight," he lowly said as if it was a threat. "さよなら"

_

"I know nothing." 

"Don't be a halfwit, Feltsman. Under no circumstances should you allow a mercenary from the Slavic union to threat a beautiful gemstone like your protégé." 

The ice has melted, evaporated droplets embellishing the glass of sparkling wine set aside. His fingers played around the stem, the fine material of his suit crumpled from the nervousness of his left hand. He grappled on the glass again, taking a rhythmical breath between the music echoing. "You couldn't have found a private place for us to discuss such matters? It isn't tactful to drag people from the business into cheap bars, Yuuriー"

"No names," he slurred, jaw clenched. His words were unyielding with their abrupt promises of avenge. "There are too many people around us." 

"Isn't that boss of yours lurking with his man from the corners of that cavernous room, Katsuki," he must really be a slowpoke. "It'd be a pity if our negotiation faltered, my protégé isn't foolish likewise. We should mention he is clever enough on his own to know how to preserve a reputation." 

"My boss is dead," every single hair over Yakov's body stood, hitch of a breath landing on the solemn silence. "Awestruck, aren't you?" 

That was one of the rare occasions where Yuuri shattered the impassive expression he'd normally maintain, perhaps it was the sweetness of the elixir reaching his nervous system, a searing, heartfelt laughter rippling through the gloomy atmosphere, men looking at them through smoke blown bubbles. He didn't stop, whatsoever. Hand over his dotted with sweat forehead, body bouncing irregularly with every electric guffaw. There, as it turned into hiccups, wisps of puffed air making a slender trace of smoke. "You are going to die in the following week, if another organization doesn't take you." 

"It wasn't my intention to murder him, plus it wasn't me who did. It was another man from your so called federation." 

Yakov's fists tightened. "You have no right to pull an underage individual in this, especially without my consent," he growls lowly in his throat, voice hoarse, scent thick of musk and raw hormones released. 

"He's eighteen," Yuuri corrects mindless. "I was given a task to kill the 'Golden Russian' (a rhetorical pseudonym of Victor's)." 

"Why would he?" 

"Ask yourself," Yuuri responds sharply. "Is there a logical reason why they wouldn't? You said it yourselfーVictor is the incarnation of one organization's exquisiteness. He's extremely clever, fastidious, capable of leading his own war. He is a benefit for everyone who'd win his stubbornness." 

"You said it yourself. Victor is my own son and the man who paid for you to be released from the orphanage in Moscow. Then helped you find your family in Japan and furthermore signed contract of giving your family the bathhouse. Victor knew you even when you turned into an emotionless marionette of your boss's games." Yuuri's heart leaps as a part of his thinly woven soul crumbles miserably under the force of such hatred. _Anger is pain in disguise._

"It was a matter of time for you to visit him, every first day of the month. Your survival was a festive occasion for him, that was traditionally celebrated like his birthdays. He was a lonely child too, why did this man make you leave us?"

He remembers the way Victor described cautiously the apathy reflected in the Japanese's eyes. _Am I a monster or just a flame that's been benumbed and malevolently stomped on?_

__

__

"I'm not glum, Yakov. Why do you think I ordered Yura to kill him?" 

"You didn't have the gallantry to kill the man who fed you?" Yuuri shook his head slightly with disagreement. 

"I couldn't expect him to forgive me after I left you, Feltsman. What would embitter and wry him more than my betrayal to you before years is if I killed another man again."

"You technically did." 

"Those are simply details." 

_

The Russian federation team of ice skating has celebrated Victor's new gold medal. Flying corks of shaken champagne, devilish chuckling behind masques, astounded chatting by the buffet table, and Victor enjoyed none of it. Like throbbing flashbacks, memories of the criminal records of each persona there hurled like a storm in Yuuri's recollection as he drove down a narrow path to the restaurant which Yakov gave him as a 'reliable' location. Yuuri was intrigued profoundly by the victory that embarks on Victor's career as a five-time world champion on ice, and here he was carrying a bouquet of treachery, calla lilies in a paper wrapper, a box with other high-priority objects that so gingerly made his heart skip behind the wheel. 

That preposterously gaudy, lavishing, sumptuously rich restaurant at the hillock in the end of the north district, Victor couldn't be any more inventive and predictable. His tastes didn't deteriorate with timeーquite the opposite. Yuuri wouldn't forget the sullen, camouflaged by dusky shadows apartment of his own, a shield from the outward world of repugnance, where he'd (with much struggle) take Victor after he'd waste himself till the wee hours of the morning. With time he didn't take Yuuri to a place, more risky than the corner bakery, it was so clichéd how lovesick one dangerous man could be, but Yuuri never really mind it. _Absolutely never._

__

__

Victor had the irksome habbit to leave whichever public place on every twenty minutes to spoil himself with the equanimity of the evening. He didn't skip this night, a long black coat being flipped under the sheer force of the wind, gloved hands waving at Yuuri as soon as he spot him waiting down the alley. 

"He is going to be the death of me," Yuuri mumbled to himself, bottom lip nibbled on to blood. 

He got into the car without even excusing himself to the crowd taking shots inside in his honor. He favored Yuuri for the ten brief minutes of melancholy the younger just had, and here the lonesome conversation with his memories ended. "Yuuri!" 

"Good evening, Victor." 

He started the engine, half impressed by the impertinent temper of his secret lover, half relieved since the man responsible for Victor's appearance in that cursed folder, must have waited inside. "Hope the celebration has been going well thus far."

"The celebration has just began, sweetheart," Yuuri takes a precaution of the white chocolate whiff he caught from Victor's mouth. _Peculiar._

_It wasn't uncanny for Victor to drink until his opiate wasn't drained to the last lick, but all sober, at such event..._

Before he could realize, Victor's tongue was deep in the gushing warmth of his mouth, flicking around his lips. "Ngh, Vicー" 

"Don't," Victor urges, a hand cupping rhe side of Yuuri's face. He was flabbergasted, body stiffen and rigid, lungs numb to function as Victor took cruelly all of his oxygen. "You came in time." 

"I know, when have I allowed myself to be late when you are waiting for me?" Victor grits his teeth, it almost looks intimidating, hand clenching the side of Yuuri's cheek before he kissed him deeply again, mouthful, wet, _Delicious._

__

__

"Victor, hurry up," Yuuri mutters as Victor passed him a skippy breath between the continuous kiss, it got sloppy and lewd, a moan crippling through Victor's mouth. "God, you are stunning," Yuuri compliments, then the uncontrollable war for dominance began. _Lovers are just like fighters._

__

__

The was Yuuri's belt clicked opened by Victor's dainty fingers was lecherous, the scent of infusing hormones with afresh portion of desire caused them to press closer, hungry to claim their skins in haughty bruises. Victor eventually allowed himself to whisper the dirtiest, most obscene and indelicate promises into the crock of his neck, right over the artery kicking with sheer adrenaline and arousal. He rambled something unintelligible, Yuuri's fingers running their pads up and down his back, even if they were chest-to-chest, none of them could wait. 

"Sit and wait for a few minutes, I'm driving to your apartment," Yuuri states, panting with anticipation as he finally tamed the fervent male, who sat obedienty on his seat. 

"Aren't you malevolent, Yuuri? I'm nothing more than a sinner to redeem." 

"And i'm, unfortunately, not a priest to forgive," Yuuri said as he prepped kisses over Victor's knuckles, tempted to kiss in the shaggy hair that's grown so much since the last time he saw him. 

_The case in Sochi before a few months lead Victor to exhaustion due to extensive physical work, and right there he wished the world could burn, when he held with last powers some police officer by the legs, sniveling like a newborn, to save Yuuri some time to escape as he ran down the stairs. Together they are winners, Victor believed. And ever since the hollow void in Yuuri's arms couldn't be filled by the man who could sweet talk the whole milky way in his pocket, he realized that undying love couldn't compensate for the heartache he's inflicted._

__

__

"Tell me, Vitya," Yuuri began. "Have you made any enemies in the past months?" 

Victor's gaze shifted, face blushed in turmoil. "I wouldn't say so. Why?" 

"I think you should consider leaving the Russian team of ice skating, life isn't all about glory and fame, it's about security too." 

"And what makes you say that, Yuuri?" The other is silent for a brief moment, or perhaps too categorical and straight-forward with his questions? They all culminated in the final line, which made Victor's poor heart twitch. 

"Did someone attempted to kill you?" So negligee and carefree, if it wasn't for the stoic, stone unmoving expression Yuuri had, the ease of his tone would hint for a casual question. As if they are going on a first date and he was curious whether Victor preferred them to watch a movie or eat first. 

"Why? You missed me during our little break?" Yuuri's feet landed furiously on the brake, as the car stopped a few streets away from their destination.  
"Yuuriー" 

Another kiss interrupted his mischievous, full of excitement speech. Feral and crude, it caused a smutty whimper to roll through Victor's tongue and the missing piece of Yuuri's whole was completed. He was absolutely convinced that he knew lunacy when Victor's hand explored the crease of his knee, the softness of his ear shell, he made up for the lost time with a single electric kiss, that demolished every fear and ache in Victor's heart. 

"I went crazy without you," Yuuri professes, kissing and nibbling on Victor's tongue and lips, grunts of satisfaction and impatience soaring. "I thought about you every day after I went home, I was terrified one day I will follow a trickle of blood and find you with too many holes over your chest to dwindle the wounds. I didn't want you to die before me so I wouldn't need to die twice." 

Victor shivered at the words spoken, so profound and heart-rending, yet excruciatingly painful. He gapes with horror for a moment, before leaving a trace of saliva over Yuuri's lips. _Gosh, he'd senselessly ravish him if they weren't outdoors._

"I looked at your pictures every day." 

"What did you do to them, Victor?"

"Ah, I slipped my hand in my briefs and said your name as if you were there," Victor admits, it's hideously mortifying and surprisingly hot. He didn't stop his hand from playing with Yuuri's suspenders, tight over his muscular chest. "I wanted you to stroke my insides as you fuck me, to make me come undone right there as I spill over your picture!" 

Dear Lord, he sounded like an expert, a professional seducer, to talk so loudly and unrestrained about how much he wanted his beloved Yuuri to destroy him. He didn't abide by any rules, there Yuuri felt the flickering lighting of possessiveness. 

It made him curls his toes in his shoes, up to his pants where the bundle threatened to explode. "Elaborations, baby."

"I leak only when I think about you filling my neglected mouth, I wanted your hand wrapped around my throat. I wish you could torture me and pull me back together." 

Yuuri hums in approval, reaching to run a hand through the silky, silver locks of hair. His lips already relished Victor's and the other struggled not to find friction over the seat. _It was fire on fire._

__

__

"I would wrap my hand around you and stroke that pretty pink cock of yours until it isn't all slick. You'd get my suit perfectly wet, won't you?" 

"Yes, Yuuri," he was silent again as they parked next to Victor's secret apartment, rough moans searing between whispers and passionate kisses. 

"Let's get inside, I should wake up for work tomorrow and you don't want me to be late, do you?" 

"Ah, I thought you left your last job," Yuuri's courtesy and gentleness was back within a beat of his heart, worrisome gaze blown wide and searching for any sign of harm or doubt in Victor's words.

"How'd know about everything?" Yuuri questions, feeling Victor's crotch rubbing against his knee, a mouth-watering scent of yearning lingering. Victor is clenching for Yuuri's clothes and with a languid sigh, he looked back at the man he loved more than he could describe. _More than the heat every muzzle has held, more than the ashes of their resentment knew._

__

__

"It was me, Yuuri..." That stupefied the Japanese, who desperately searched in Victor's eyes, and prayed to find any indication that one of it was true. It hurt Victor to see him dumbfound, amazed and startled yet, shuddering in the older's arms as every piece of his heart, barely holding on the slim hold of rationally, refused to give in and accept it. "I organized my own murder, knowing beforehand it'll be you." 

"What?" A wrathful, full of anger expression twisted Yuuri's smile as he let go of Victor's arms. "You wouldn't do that to yourself, nor to me." 

"You gave an oath to me that if the leader of your organization died, we'll be together." 

"That's why you decided to put the guilt of one's death on my shoulders?" 

"Don't try to trick me, darling," Victor's whisper is inaudible, a smirk curving the edge of his lips upwards. Yuuri could feel how heavy and domineering that smile of pride felt over his mouth, they were partially sharing a breath now, as if it was the last chance of them to redeem for their love. "It was Yura who stood behind the gun, wasn't it? He fired the bullet, it wasn't you right?" 

"He served my order, Victor!" 

"Wrong," Victor's palms met the warmth of Yuuri's chest, down his ribs and where his cute stomach folds gently. It was a key moment for Yuuri not to flinch, but the sardonic part isーhe wanted to be torn on pieces by the same masterfully beautiful man that ruled over his heart. He was drunk by the bold words, low Russian accent growling in his ear as Victor filled his palms with Yuuri's flash. "He followed my orders. Everyone in the mansion were ordered not to speakーI just had to find one man of mine who wanted your boss dead, as much as I did, and we would both be free." 

"What if it wasn't that easy, Victor!" Yuuri says through kisses and unconcealed whimpers, feeling the increasing heaving of Victor's chest, the rising and falling of his instinctive panting, that kept him alive. And he, for Yuuri's horror, would not be here if it wasn't for Plisetsky's loyalty. 

"You've given your life for me hundred of times, Yuuri. Don't settle for less. I'm not made of glass, I'm strong enough not to drag you in hell with me and weak enough not to let you go," Victor is now holding Yuuri's hand, pleading him with doe-like eyes to get inside the damned apartment. Yuuri, notwithstanding, would focus on anything else but the addictive warmth of Victor's body oressed to his own. "I wanted both of us to be free, even if we burn with our debts unpaid. Understand me for once, Yuuri. I'd kill my man if it was for you." 

"If you aren't as frail as you claim to be, let me fuck you until you are broken." 

"Yes." 

_

The atmosphere at Victor's apartment hasn't changed since the last time Yuuri stayed there for the night. Dingy sheets, covered with Victor's clothes as if he's built a nest for them two. The thought of Victor pleasuring himself, urging Yuuri amidst the midnight peace was too much for him to handle. There is a book spread opened on the side of his desk, a mug of pearly beverage that must have been a steamy tea earlier that day. "Open the wardrobe, Yuuri." 

Victor sat in his bathrobe in the middle of his bed when Yuuri opened the chestnut door, revealing a breath-hitching scenery. There were none of Victor's clothes, ironed and tactfully ordered by colour scheme inside. There were weapons instead, from daggers with multiple blades to guns in different sizes, clips of magazines lying mindless in boxes at the bottom. "Vitya, what is all of this?" 

"They are mine, sweetheart." Victor crawled slowly on his feet behind Yuuri, tongue over the trace marks of his teeth, sucking on the spot with so much precision, hands getting his shirt undone. "I'm just like you. We aren't any different baby. Neither in our desires, nor in our past," those pale fingers are wandering under his shirt, up from his clavicles down to his heart and stomach, lips not tearing apart from the nape of Yuuri's neck. Yuuri's eyes are brimming with salty tears and the affectionate embrace of Victor's arms isn't enough to soothe the anxiety this time. 

So he pushes him back in bed. 

"Don't you dare deny how much you've wished I died at the beginning of our rivalry, Victor. I wanted you dead, likewise. To slash your throat and erase that prideful smile of yours," Yuuri's hands are rubbing over his erected nipples and his clothes are itching by now. _What a wicked game to play._

"Now, I'd burn in hell just to see that smile of yours. 

"I love you," Victor kissed him again, not holding the sounds that naturally rambled through his chest. "Let me incinerate your chains, we'll be free now."

"Fuck, I love you too baby." Yuuri's mouth hovered over Victor's neck, spoiling his sensitive spot with additional attention, sparkles of pleasure blooming in his chest. His fingers didn't leave his muscly chest, pale, ivory skin quivering under his touch. 

"Yuuri, hurry upー" _Oh? Reverse role? Who's saying that now._

All their prudish neighbors were going to hear and Victor loved it. He took off all of the holsters and weapons hidden within Yuuri's clothing, grinding his intimate parts over Yuuri's well-curved thigh, his swollen lips couldn't contain the weight for the pulsating arousal he felt to pool in his stomach, grappling Yuuri's clothes to bring him closer. 

Yuuri's head lowered in order to admire Victor' skin a bit, seeing him twitch and turn his head in imminent satisfaction, little sounds begging Yuuri to keep going, as the sloppy licks went from his calf, up to his inner thighs. The red flush of his body, contradicting with the light clothes he still wore, his plump entrance twitching with anticipation as he imagined Yuuri scissoring his elegant fingers inside, there Victor reached to kiss Yuuri's fingers, before the younger pushed his tongue in. 

A guttural sound came from Victor and Yuuri seized his form, he gurgles helplessly in air and Yuuri couldn't do anything else but let his palm harshly land on the exposed flesh. "Mhg, Yuuri, waitー" He didn't, a slap delivered to Victor's delicate skin, which resulted in him clenching around Yuuri's wet muscle. The bundle of nerves at the tip of his cock was now at Yuuri's mercy, sending a shrieking yelp from his throat. Yuuri remembered all his weak spots as if he had a map on his palm. 

"Stay put," he is deaf for that, lost in insanity. Victor grinds faster over Yuuri's face, looking as the younger thrusts his hips into thin air, leaking into the sheets that Victor didn't wash even when he weeped for Yuuri, not even when he touched himself at the idea of those brilliantly bright and innocent eyes his lover had, nevertheless, Yuuri was simply grateful for every waking surrounded by the memory of Victor's voice. 

Yuuri kneels in front of Victor's spread legs, wiping predatorially the corner of his mouth, preening at the lovely sight. His gaze softens, cock twitching, and before he knew it Victor unzipped his pants so he could feel full. "Yuuri, please, I'm going to die." 

"You aren't going anywhere, Victor." Yuuri reassures, hands ready to adjust Victor's cold hips, the head of his cock eagerly preparing itself for the clenching heat ahead. "I won't let you go anymore."

"Ahh, faster," Victor croaks with dry throat as Yuuri moved, hands scratching his raven hair. "Yuuri, mine, mine, promiseー"

"Yours, all yours, I swear by my life." Victor's back arches with anticipation, and Yuuri spends the next few minutes laying over Victor's shoulder, fucking into the tingling heat, semen dripping from the abused cleft of Victor's legs, and he is trying his best to breathe because the fullness taking over his senses, is stronger than the ache of an open wound. 

"Ah, ah, Yu-Yuuri, love slowly," Victor suddenly asked, puffing and blowing innocently, the air meeting resistance from his lungs. "Mhn, God." 

"Take a breath, Vitya," Yuuri paced his tempo, slow slaps of skin echoing as Victor bit on his hand. "Don't baby, you'll hurt yourself." 

"I want to Yuuri!" The sudden outburst of energy startles even the younger, who is hard over again inside the warm bliss of Victor's body, begging to hear just a little bit more from those vulnerable sounds his lover made. "Shatter me, just don't leave." 

"Shh, I'm not leaving." Yuuri croons tenderly, laved Victor's still erected nipples in kisses ignoring the bile taste of fear and angst in his mouth. Victor breathes again after a pause, crying for _more._

He took oh so fondly Yuuri's hand, placing a kiss over his calloused knuckles and allowing it to rest over the frantic thumping of his heart, surprisingly he then took Yuuri's finger between his lips. 

"Yuuri, mh..." 

"Vitya..." Yuuri gasped at the sensation, too hot not to make him spill inside Victor a bit, rocking his hips in fast motion. Victor's mouth is opened for a silent moan, chest unbelievably flushed, drool glistening at the corner of his lips as he gave up on the grasp Yuuri had on his chin, passionate kisses served between thrusts and then a few waves of orgasm came, foggy juices splashing between their rubbing skin. 

"Ngh... Yuuri don't stop," Yuuri did as told, fucking him through his climax even after he spilled inside him, cum smeared and dripping between the hazy thrusts, Yuuri's nose buried in Victor's hair. He was motionless, breathing shallow and rapidly with his mouth opened, writhing slightly. He was just a human after all. 

Then, Yuuri noted that Victor's eyes are _sapphire flames._

He's undressed his soul to full nudity, a caring hand stroking Yuuri's spinal bumps one by one, increasing heart rate racing against Yuuri's empty right rib. His innermost craves are locked here, behind this oceanic sapphire fire, crystal and tearing at the mercy of his lover. It was truly remarkable, Yuuri thought, how you can tame a beast and lock it in the hallowed, sacred world of two. He wipes Victor's tear from his eyes falling into the scent of wild hormones and white flowers, pushing a wavy wisp of shiny silver hair behind his ear. 

"Ngh, Yuuri, why would you stop?" 

By command, Yuuri moves, the way Victor's pupils dilated, mouth forming a small 'o' in a muffled moan, hips jerking upwards, body gracefully arching and shaking, made arousal pool in his belly instantly, torrid kiss pressed to Victor's lips as he fists, threads his fingers roughly in Yuuri's hair as if his life depended on that. 

"You fixed all of my mishappen pieces, I can't believe you could put up with a murderer even after I have step a foot in Saint Petersburg's territoryー"

"You are forgiven, darling," Victor struggled to speak with Yuuri buried deep inside him, rocking steadily over his skin. "I've kept secrets so we are equal now." 

"No, we aren't," Yuuri points as he adjusted Victor in his lap, head pillowed over Victor's soft chest. "I wasn't strong enough to survive in the anarchy, Victor. Not without your support, ever since I was a homeless orphan." 

"Don't speak like this," Victor said eith demand, unconcealed yelp of pleasure coming from his throat. "I should have burnt Yakov's organization before years, likewise. I don't even want to imagine what you went through, anxious and poor, you were a kid." 

With extravagant twirl, they switched positions in the bed, sheets wrinkled, voices high. It felt safe, as a matter of fact. Yuuri's blue framed glasses falling to the side, Victor looking thoroughly wrecked. The aftermath of their desireーfresh milky splashes of cum seeping through the thin bedsheets, Yuuri saw white as Victor tilted his head, not comprehensive to form a single word besides occasional 'faster' and 'Yuuri'. True to his word, Yuuri had ruined him, abominable, dirty, yet sentimental. 

"I'm not a piece of useless meat, Victor. I wished to see you choke on the barrel of my pistol, to take your breath away because you've always looked so good dancing on blades, I was jelous beyond possible." At the belligerent words spoken, Victor pitifully clenched around Yuuri's length, reaching to hold his hand securely in his own. He's been overstimulated, Yuuri could say, dead lying in the middle of the bed as if he couldn't properly understand the meaning behind Yuuri's words, primal sounds seeped like litany. 

"You've always been more than this, Yuuri," Victor murmured, length swinging inside him. "That's why I've always danced just for you." 

"I'm not done with you, my sweet Victor. I wouldn't before you forget your own name," Victor is aghast, partly thunderstruck and stunned by Yuuri's intentions. He just lovingly grappled Yuuri's flesh, rubbing over his softening member. 

"Let me dance." 

_

Soapy water gradually streamed down the drain, steam making all the synthetical full body mirrors foggy and unclear. Long after the vows taut with elation, Yuuri and Victor lay in the same bed, Victor's face buried in Yuuri's neck, hand thrown around his midriff to pull him closer, legs tangled under the plain white blanket with a knitted one thrown for extra comfort over their feet, which peeked out nonetheless. 

"I'm sorry about the scheme I've created," Victor eventually said. Presumably, he's stayed awake guarding Yuuri's slim body snuggled in a bundle of covers, scrolling through phone. 

Yuuri knew Victor wasn't asleepーhe's memorized his breathing pattern over his neck by heart, moveover his nails slightly drag their was at Yuuri's thighs down to his groin, nuzzling into the cleft of his neck. _He is notorious even worn out.  
_

"Apologise to yourself, you've dragged yourself into something I'd never wish to see you in," Yuuri says and Victor's mouth is opened wide in shock, clawing his way up to rest his head against Yuuri's temples. "Did Yakov know about that?" 

__

__

"Of course not," smoky hair tickled the tip of Yuuri's nose, hands resting flat over his body. "He isn't unfamiliar with my unprincipled plans, I haven't been brought to the point where I show my worst, sweetheart." 

Yuuri hummed a tune of his own, impish grin decorating his face. "Says my beautiful Vitya, we are an adorable couple, no?" 

Syrupy. Victor mentally compares with a peck over Yuuri's cheek, tapping on his shoulders, rubbing and stroking small circles of physical intimacy. He nuzzles closer, as the other reaches to turn the lights off, hands lax around Victor's waist. He wasn't appalled by the idea of not feeling the vibrations of Yuuri's steps clacking around the corner. There he was, in his arms even after months of isolation, and the best way to celebrate his happiness was just to hold him close.

"You should have seen yourself earlier, Yuuri. You look dazzling when you try to devastate something which has always been yours."

"You are such a sap," Yuuri's voice is muffled by the drowsiness, offering a little reassurance as he clinged around Victor for dear life, waiting for the atypically chatty Russian to soothe himself from the excitement and sleep. Bedtime routine was something they should need so brisk conversations while flossing could be avoided. 

For now on, the only significant thing is that Yuuri will stay, because the figure in his arms is everything one can worship and everything one sapphire flame couldn't burn.


	2. Cigarette's box and return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing from the troublesome youth Yuuri had isn't as easy as believed, but a crazy man as Victor is there to start a fire.

Saint Petersburg's hostile atmosphere couldn't be reimbursed by the magestic and astounding number of bridges, spreading from one muddy coast to another, facing some of the most evocative seascapes. Foamy, surging waves dashed between the canals, stars studding the misty, darkness consumed sky. It would have been a cozy view to behold, to observe the chilly winds and the way the fog vapors, tucked under the velvet cover of the blue pallette horizon, if it wasn't for Anichkov Bridgeーbeauty by the laws of danger. 

Only the scarce lights of a few buildings were distinguishable, stars lowering their august, majestic shining just to catch a glimpse of the scene happening. 

There, enlightened by lukewarm light stood two thickly dressed figuresー shoulders shielded by sooty, ebony black clothing, faces folded in scarfs, sullenly moving with the direction of the wind. Little snowflakes danced over their coats, lonesome stillness creating tension between the figures. _They couldn't move._

"Have you completed your task," the figure spoke with unreadable voiceーtoo hoarse to be a female, powerful force of twisted words rambled through the seriousness of the situation. "Have you, Mari Katsuki?" 

Yuuri's sister nonchalantly shifts her eyes, languid and rheumy, to look at this person again, and there is guilt in themーunconcealed devastation by something that she probably couldn't fix. They invited treachery, enigmatic through the dense material of her high collar. _Would she stand in the middle of the winter's mercy, if innocence was the only strength moving splashing the waves in the black waters?_

Thin smile decayed to severe grimace faster than the smoke dissipated after a candle flame has been snuffed out. "You aren't leaving me a choice, but there is a wonderful, mystic law of nature called karma. You'll be served what you deserve, sooner or later." 

The other person doesn't seem to acknowledge properly her words, nor to feel the steel blade of the mafia's avenge close to their carotid. _His head thumped with anticipation_

"You are eloquent, aren't you?" 

"Your scheme is a huge front chamber with everything in it enticing to the eye," she snarls back. "Heinous. You're a dishonor even for a low rank group like yours."

"The boss will slice your head in pieces if he found out you are a traitor." 

"Oh, I wager! Katsuki is my relative, and for the sake of your rest tonight, I won't mention how much of a clever man he is. Trivial bites like you are eliminated beforehand." 

"You've got the bravery to speak in front of someone who could put an end to you 'relatives' career," the voice says in broken combination between English and Japanese, the muscly and huge-boned structure of his body evident through the thick clothes. "Who'd mind after all? I will only make whole Russia sleep in peace." 

There's evident repel, odium that made her insides somersault, the charade of aloofness crackling. She's brave, he realizes. But there must be something to confront her, a small detail between the dragon tattoo clambering up her neck and the quiver of her fingers. _Even monsters cry._

With a slipshod kick of her arms she took out a CD, titled 'The dancer's sin.' Within a second it slipped between her fingers down the river, with muted splash, echoing through the background of hollow silence and vehicles passing. 

She could hear the clatter of a barrel, but if it was for her brother even the dragon inked under her skin could breathe fire and smit you to husks. "It's gone, no one has a copy besides my personal device." 

"That's better," the voice said again, the postlude of this perpetual meeting coming. "Here is the end of your task, Katsuki." 

He handled her a box of cigarettes. _Victor's favorite._

ー

Victor's seething bones were laved in the embrace of his armchair, body warily wrapped in the cotton duvet dangling between his dainty fingers. Yuuri would have frowned if he saw him gnawing relentlessly on his nails with anticipation, scrolling through the documents he generously offered to sort out between the squelching thrusts of Yuuri's narrow hips and the gurgling of the pot. Oh Victor's lips were as hot as a embers, _heady as merlot._

There he was ruling out unnecessary information about unsavory people, cotton crumbs of the duvet between his fingers, pearly teeth chomping on his nails. "Those must be all for today," he encourages himself, preening with delight at the thought of Yuuri being satisfied by the work the ex-assassin, furthermore dancer did. 

He should've insisted on the corresponding payment for the secretary job he did, just to please someone who could buy him with his daily wage. 

In the climax of his reverie, possible queries dashing one after another, memories of molten chocolate eyes flickering and reflecting streetlights, Victor's mind trailed off enough so that he didn't notice a _1 new message_ in Yuuri's inbox. 

"I didn't delete this one?" He pushes the pile of documents and boxes sideways, covering the tiny elaborations of Yuuri's desk. Such a prudent, tactful and neat man like his Yuuri had a photo session in front of himーfrom a big sized picture of Victor and him in Japan placed in a fancy, whimsy white frame, to smaller in format ones, pushed in front of the glass. There was Makkachin sprinting through the earthy, rocky beaches of Russia and Yuuri's mother waving at the camera. 

He opens it with a click, nor bothering to read the sender's back address, eyes shimmering with bewitchment. _Download files._ The lighthearted Russian pressed his lips in a line, hand moving around the screen, feet tapping perpetually over the carpet, clock tickling above the window. The picture just starred at himーsome childish pictures over the walls blinking with reminiscence, Victor didn't even assume that a sweetheart like him, who could sweet talk the milky way in his pocket and soothe an eerie wraith, will have a secret revealed. Soon. _The clock tick-tacks with determination._

His pulse elevates, dry gulps demanding for some water, eyes lucid and unbelievably fearful. "Huh?" He said to himself at as he downloaded the files, a new window with popup warning for viruses opening. He opens the folder with some oddly, atypically named files and opens one of them with shuddering heart, hands clammy and damp. _Breathe, for God's sake!_ The pictures set beside him didn't move a centimeter, the duvet was rubbing into the dusty carpet. "The dancer's sin?" He reads aloud. 

Then the solemnity of the air froze and shattered it's fragments into explosive, hot waves. 

A vintage, poor quality video pops on Victor's screen, he wasn't a daft not to recognise the locationーthe dam' orphanage where he first saw Yuuri! The orphanage he fermented, charred to soot, was filmed at the day of the accident. The footage wasn't clear, nor professional. Some women were running down the stairs, some were inaudible in their silenced shouts. Victor truly felt like a killer that dayーwhen Yuuri came home in tears, shoulders sobbing and jolting with desperation as he vent and pleaded for Victor to destroy that place, brick by brick, so it won't inflict any more abuse to other kids. 

Victor's composure was long gone at the staggering confession of his lover. He was dazed. Victor forgot about the power the Nikiforov family had, running different business districts and facilities with high income and prestigious lawyers to help them solve every case they embarked on. 

Victor forgot all of his, he forgot about the intellectual and level-headed demeanor, the game has become too wicked once you've laid a finger on something he loved from the bottom of his heart. Perhaps it was Yuuri's tears that soaked Victor's shirt profusely and his so quiet and meek voice that urged him to say something at all, but Victor's heart had long shriveled to nothing. 

Then he didn't start a court dispute against the orphanage's methods, instead he did the most primal and spontaneous thing, all his twisted hatred and madness seeping through the gasoline and the flicker that sent the building on _fire_

"Forgive me, Yuuri..." he croaks devastated, hand quivering over the keyboard. The video has ended and soon the file is decoded and doesn't abide Victor's frantic clicking over it. Who could that be? He could only thank the heavens with scowl that it wasn't his lover to see that video, because Victor planned on telling him, but not in this way. He tiredly reaches to take his phone and deal a number, switching to Russian absent-minded. There the pictures were frowning upon Victor's act, avenge sizzling over Yuuri's dark eyes and for a moment Victor felt the devil's grip, sharp nails and filth over his neck. 

He couldn't forget the tears one institution caused his strong Yuuri to snivel like a kid, and meanwhile he couldn't forgive himself for losing his mind. 

"Christophe," he says without pausing, guilt swelling his insides. "There is an urgent matter we should expound, dig into the archives of the orphanage's case and meet me at the main warehouse." 

"Why are you in such a rush?" There is a erroneous laughter, throaty and deep, so relevant that Victor could build a picture of Yuuri's associate looking like a sham with cheap shirt sticky with liquor, dark circles under his eyes making up his heavy grimace. 

Victor's teeth grit with an impending promise of violence. There is a strong wish and yearn to shout with the gratification and loath bubbling in his chest, to restrict that man from speaking nonsense, since _who was he to express indomitable will, who is he to even dare act like he wasn't part of Yuuri's possessions?_ "All of this must stay confidential, say a word to Yuuri and I will end your career." 

The Swiss takes a resilient and hesitant step back, and even if Victor isn't there to feel it, he knew the light whiff of fear that used to stain Yuuri's clothes with it's unpardonable, unforgiving pledges. "Why so?" 

"That's my order, Chris. Wasn't it Yuuri who asked you to follow my rules strictly?" 

"Correct, he also said, however, that under no circumstances shall I hide potential problems in the group from him." 

"It's a matter of semantics. Petty servants would abide by his rules regardless, but you doing me a personal favour today, Chris." Now Chris whistles. 

"Oh, now I understand, thank you for enlightening me," a guffaw is barked, rambling through the speaker in clipped tone. "Expect me to come by two,"

"Right," Victor puffs and blows sharp heaves of relief, nails fidgeting at the plain frame of the pictures. "Thank you for your services."

ー

The following few hours slipped slowly, unhasty and prolongedーthe subtleties of Victor's worry and uneasiness were locked between the fast-paced tapping of his foot over the ground and the uncensored slew of obscenities he hissed. Christophe has arrived in two, as precise as a swiss clock, hands crossed in front of his chest, he came upon one desperate, life-drained Russian with face burried in his palms, pastel blue eyes swelling with mental exhaustion, elbows stabbing the surface of the table. It didn't take them much longer than clasping their coats off the coat rack, scuttling through the main entrance. 

A decision so impeccably plain to be made, spontaneous and dynamic, the whim of Victor's words that ordered Chris to drive towards the orphanage, which after Victor's unleashed anger has turned into children's bureau. The popular version was that it was a gas explosion or short circuit, even with the appearance of the suggestive footage, which hinted that someone, somewhere knew part of the truth. _And wasn't afraid of exposing it._

The venture was brief and predictable, both of the males maintained awfully professional silence, which continued even after they've arrived at their desired destination. It took Victor the deep, confident accent when pronouncing his family name, emphasizing on the 'Katsuki' relations he had and no one could ignore, especially when a man with bumps of his holsters under his leather coat was standing dangerously close to him. He'd an arranged meeting with a man who's been a number one suspected. 

"It's a pleasure to see Katsuki's acquaintance here, how could I assist you?" 

Victor gags mentally at the artificial familiarity of the man, hand outstretched for a handshake. "Mr Nikiforov, please." 

"Oh Lord, he will go wild," Christophe mumbles with a shift of his legs, leaning to the wall beside the outdated, little sofa, springs loose beneath him. Oh that style spoke enough of the man itself, and after dealing with this issue Victor had to ensure his contract's end. 

" What a fatal man," _He must be demented!_ Chris thought. 

"We came here because of a footage that's been received recently," Victor began lowly. "It's unfortunately about the accident that took place three years ago, you are familiar with the case, I hope?" 

"How could I not be, Nikiforov. Everyone mourned after the tragedy that day." 

"I presumed the case was long closed." 

"It was, as long as I'm informed. Some document popped on Katsuki's device, it doesn't explain anything." 

"It's a potential danger," Victor elaborates, gesturing with his hand. The annoyance is prominent in his stretched nerves and it does take just an order for the quiet Christophe beside the door to snap. "You shouldn't misconstrue the significance of such thing." 

"Oh?" 

"Yuuri's life is forfeit for mine."

At such strong comparison even Christoph's skin trembled. Victor wasn't playing a gameーhe'd stepped into a treacherous territory where he fetchingly negotiated with the devil himself, as if he was born to do it. Something as crazy that could cost him his head, was as easy as shuffling a desk of cards. _Being a victim is a state of mind, being a winner is a miracle of hundred opportunities._

"Who are you to him?" 

"None of your business," the tone was deepeningーVictor hasn't received any satisfying answers and he was close to untether his wrath. He leans forward and that man knew by the glare, he is in surreal trouble. The only way to respond to death when you glare at it is to smileーeven if it has blue eyes. 

"You realize who Katsuki is?" Christoph adds. 

"I do, he is a madman with a history in this orphanage's archives, isn't he?" Victor was deliriously in love with that manーfrom the flicking and lapping of his tongue in Victor's mouth to the power procure, Yuuri Katsuki had Victor's heart on its knees. Yet he isn't a fool, he's still alert to deception. 

And he is the last person to tolerate hateful behavior towards Yuuri. 

"He's much more than that." 

"And who are you?" Victor leans closer, face stiffening with stoic, impassive expression. His muscles didn't even shiverーit was impossible to tell whether he was analyzing the domineering posture of the older man or just relaxing. Chris was flabbergasted. _Everything he saw was a perspective, not the truth. Everything he heard was an opinion not a fact._ Victor knew Yuuri's soul more than dam' urban legends did. 

"I'm his shadow." 

"Ha-ha-ha! How poetic," he couldn't realize it was from a joke. "Tell Katsuki to bring his money here, the footage was sent to me my his relative who's still in the schemes of Yakuza, she asked me to re-send the folder to Katsuki's mail. It couldn't have been important." 

"What?" The man had a haughty disdain to the subject, and Victor's patience slipped into oblivion once his eyes widened with realization. "Are you trying to inflict that Katsuki's sister is involved in this? Why would she ask you to send that and not do it directly? Her intentions couldn't have been worse than yours!" 

"Don't put any blame on me," he idly stirs his metal spoon around the cold beverage. "He doesn't need a lawyer, Mr Nikiforov. He would have asked me about Miss Katsuki's plan when he came earlier if he needed any protection." 

Victor's eyes froze into a white sheet, misty and grey, unmoving and blind. "Yuuri was here, today?" 

"If you've stuck with him like a 'shadow', how could you not know?" Their relationship served many organizationsーthey have survived the resentment of lying silently in the same bed, understanding the pain behind the thinly woven safety, their dingy apartment offered. Who is he to judge? Who is he to keep Yuuri in his thoughts when the only person he belonged to is Victor? Victor is nauseated. 

"That's enough," Chris attempts to interfere, seeing the insanely lucid trace of tears that forms in the corner if Victor's eye. Victor could have protested, however, there is a hesitation and great wonderment of why Yuuri hid such an important meeting from him? He was here? He knew about the video? He knew Mari sent it? Should he celebrate the minor fact that Yuuri is even alive after a sixty days of not calling, even when Victor fell asleep beside the phone? Waiting? 

"Are you going to sue me for a lie?" There is something arrogant that is taunting Victor's achilles spot. 

"He couldn't sue you." 

"Please, who are you to ruin the discussion every two minutes! Swiss hound to protect a whore." 

There wasn't even a click audible if the safety mechanism of his glock being switchedーall Victor recalls is the jolt in the man's body and the stillness welcoming the monstrous display of bruteness. Fear is effervescent and primal reactions make the ground under your feet swoon. _He' dead._ There's no rise and fall of his chest, his mouth is opened in a mock, blood in rivulets searing down the light hue of the floor, in a split second the swirly chair allows his body to shuffle over the floor. 

"I'm his husband..." Victor breathes, answer horribly delayed. Why is he still here? Amidst the lifeless, the stagnant and inert office where he didn't belong. _He must find Yuuri._

"Do you want me to drive you home?" 

With last comprehension, he grapples the folder with dates submitted, anything that could be of any advantage. "Yes." 

ー

The city's been dreary and frigid, sky clement and flecked with golden leaf, stars sprinkled in large portions all over the darkness. Coal-tar steps left a heavy tread behind Victor's back, he's weary and lightheaded, heart sleeping in the apartment's shadows as he passes through the spacious kitchen. The home espresso machine was hovering over the forlorn, souvenir mug with watery coffee that's stayed there for the whole morning. The pictures are already dustyーthe complication of living on brisk and busy main street. 

He's already dropped his keys into the opened drawer, looking at the double spaces he's lovingly created for Yuuri's confrontーdouble teeth brushes for rough night shifts, the japanese peanuts with ultra-crunchy shell Yuuri devours quick of the mark, before he even takes his shoes off. The additional pillow Victor had stored in the large wardrobeーhe's been awake when Yuuri came home, the anguish too heavy on his heart, so he just sprawled his body dead beside Victor on that pillow and savored the warmth from the older's drowsy skin. 

By Victor's breathing pattern and quickening heartbeat he knew the older wasn't asleep so he just held him close, smiling against his neck. Together, dancing like hesitant suitors around each other's patience, listening the ascendancy of good over evil, _listening to the cold droplets of the coffee machine slamming with a crush into the woodsy, amber beverage._

"Who do you think you are?!" 

Yuuri's provoked tone when someone ruffles his feathers hides profuse anger, yet it could be stoic and impassive in it's gruff and croaky threats. Whatever the case, Victor's mind vividly illustrated the most terrifying scenarios in his head, right before he sprinted the living room, bag thrown with a sharp strike of his hand and excellent coordination oved the floor, gun loaded in his hand. 

He distinguishes two voicesーand his guess was in perfect accordance to reality. 

"Victor?" It was Mari's voice, infused with great puzzlement and the echo of porcelain plate being smashed into the wall, a moment before Victor hastens into the room. She'd uncanny, sleazy and bare clothing a cigarette crumpled between her manicured fingers. 

Yuuri is there too, Victor assumes, but there is nothing as gentle as the eyes laid on him with observing care, nurturing arm gesturing that he should not get between the flaring tension. "What are you both doing here?" 

"I came home," Yuuri said, feeling inferior under Victor's thumb. It wasn't a lie that Victor had cooked for two, slept for two, endured for two to see a man who had the valour not to contact him for two months, standing shamelessly in the middle of the monotonous apartment. "I wasn't informed about the video I' ve received, but you opened instead." 

It was more of an interrogation than stating prominent facts. "It's your fault you wasn't with him to open it!" 

"Don't you dare interfere, Mari." 

"The could have been sent to me by anyone, you better know than Victor that our organization has servants who are responsible for the income of messages. It could be anyone, why didn't you blame it on the bureau maintenence?" 

"I said enough, Mari," he doesn't offer elaboration, just a neglectful glare, before he apologetically looked at Victor. "He knows nothing." 

There are limpid tears rolling across Victor's face and for the sake of not showing weakness, he harshly wiped them with dry bile stuck in the base of his throat. The truth stripped out of its shell, salty tears at the margin of Victor's sanity. "That man is dead..." 

Yuuri is quick to cup the sides of Victor's face, his own twisting into a grimace of concern. Yuuri is wild and maniacal when he doesn't possess control over the situation, because there is nothing more tragic that seeing your only loved one gathered between a frantic hug and the slim hold of rationality. Victor wasn't a strategic plan to solve, he wasn't a criminal problem to wreck. 

He is just a preacher of killer's gospel. 

"Vitya, sweetheart, talk to me," Yuuri asked right away, soft circles rubbed along Victor's temples. "How did he die, do you know anything about the video thyself? Did you saw him die?" 

He nods with a sigh. "Yes. Christophe pulled the trigger, but it wasn't his intention," he justifies. "The man stepped out of every manners and etiquette. He was very disrespectful, Yuuri." 

"He is keeping secrets from you." 

"You've crossed the line," Yuuri warns at the woman scooping her device from the table with rile. "It's high time for you to leave. It's a matter between you and me." Churning glares are hurled towards the bothersome stillness of her facial muscles, there is no twitch or doubt even after Yuuri's magazine was emptied over her figure. Amidst the shouts, Victor wants to protest or at least be a gentleman and accompany Yuuri'a sister to the threshold of their apartment, however he recalls that no one should have known about the location of their apartment. 

Yuuri's papery hand tightens it's hold around Victor's, the pads of his fingers pillowed on the pale delicate wrists, tracing a line at the edge of Yuuri's pulse point. Mari, at the debris of her silent despair, look pragmatic, poised, ready to leave the apartment as if her only purpose was to see Victor's breakdown. She's left a shred of her domineering presence by the crash of the front door, shattered glasses of everything thrown at Yuuri lying asleep amidst the havos, the disarray and chaos. Victor wish it could stay awake for a little longer, but he couldn't rescue a room, a heart, hope that's been _dead._

Fierce, chaste kisses are planted on Victor's head, consequence of hushed vows stern over his ear, fast kisses searching their way to his consciousness. "I'm sorry, Yuuri." 

"You don't need to excuse yourself in front of me, sweetheart. I should have been here earlier, a way earlier," Yuuri apologises with disheartened groan, stroking his cold, icy cheeks, like sleigh is skating down to them into oblivion. "I shouldn't have let her inside, I was careless enough to give her our location. Our home, Victor." 

There is unconcealed remorse, that rolls in like a thunder through his whispers. The world spuns in reverse and Victor doesn't feel much beside his fists around the fine material of Yuuri's cherished black vest, that's been unprincipledly, awfully ruined by Victor's clasps. As a response, Yuuri's arms locks higher, tightly around his boyfriend's strong ribcage, small burr of protest blowing up at the end of their emotional tantrumーIt's just the living room, Victor realizes with dread, the winsome atmosphere, the stunning, well-polished furniture pieces. 

There is just one broken plate to remind of the hurricane that's demolished everything in its sight, and one melancholic light coming vaguely from the moon, to remind for it's lonesome evenings. 

"Stop it," Yuuri said. "You are too far away. Too far from me." 

"You didn't mind it when speaking to that man, did you?" 

"Don't be so cruel, Vitya. I love you." 

Victor contemplates for a moment, head spinning with a rush of temperature, cold air and heaviness glued to his larynx. Yuuri is quick to wrap his arms around Victor's waist, feeling the feverish, sleep deprived skin radiating hotness, legs trembling. 

"Hold on, I need to pick up the litters and glasses, love. I should check if the front door is locked," he inadvertently snaps his fingers and hurries to try the handle downwards. Victor's eyes doesn't tear away even for a moment, in pure gratitude and lovesickness. "She won't come here again, you are safe with me." 

"What if I don't like it completely secure, Yuuri?" 

"You can't be helped," Yuuri sighs, motionlessly grappling on his clothes to take them off. He is too astute, too seductive to even be real. "The bathroom is yours." 

"The bathroom is ours," Victor corrects. "Welcome home, baby." 

ー

"You've been reading quite a lot, darling," Victor's lips land right below Yuuri's lobe and down the familiar dragon tattooed under his skin. He's been so severely focused on the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard with rapid tapping. He stopped for a moment to take a break, back stretched over his pillow, Victor's arm thrown over his midriff. The book "A study in red" stood beside his vitamins on the nightstand, just where a rusty clip of ammunition laid. "Aren't you ready for round two?"

They've spent their time until now making sweet love with each other, switching between equal intervals of time.

There's been some flurry of movement and sentiment, firstly when Victor hit Yuuri's sweet spot and possessively straddled his curvy, muscular thighs, bending him over the window while he was having a smoke, thrusting into the slick paradise of warmth that sucked him insided with a mad clench. The second was when Victor has cried over how elegant Yuuri's fingers are. Like a science law, Victor came with a shout, clingy and bothered afterward, kissing the line of Yuuri's surgery scars to his briefs and that common sense of gratitude and protectiveness bloomed in his chest with every little whimper and toe curl of the Japanese. 

"He's said nothing, right?" Yuuri asks between puffs of accelerated breathing. 

"You are a sap," Victor complains, hand stroking the side of Yuuri's face. "The international criminal lord cannot even enjoy the company of an ex-dancer without talking about work." 

"My beautiful dancer couldn't keep his claws for tonight, you had to dig into the matter and even talk to people involved." 

"How did you know about the video, as a matter of fact? Did Mari leak something? Or you are collecting data from your computer when abroad?" The climax of questions is interrupted by a sudden, sloppy and lazy kiss, that feels so delicious over his deprived skin. 

"Don't be foolish, sweetheart. Cameras are installed at every corner of the room, one worrisome look in your eyes and I had to break the world to find the reason." 

"You've watched over me like this?" Victor isn't that surprised, but he fakes being aghast, exaggerating with his gestures. "You should have just come home to me, Yuuri. I was sure I won't make it without you here for long." 

"Why is that so? Christophe is a reliable servant, he didn't hesitate to kill just as I paid him to. He is a familyー"

"Shh," Victor urges, pulling Yuuri even closer into his hold, his heart racing with excitement over Victor's cheek. "I'm alright even if I have a double blade dancing over my neck, but my world won't survive without you." 

He presses a gentle, fond kiss to his wrists, gingerly parting his lips to plant warmth over the tiny popping vein. Yuuri is alive, from the blood boiling within his saneness and sound of life, to the scorching like incinerating summer sun skin. Yuuri closes his eyes for a moment. 

"No, Yuuri. You aren't allowed to take all of this by yourself, don't you even dare do that when i'm right next to you!" 

_Was it his recent absence?_ There is bizarre silence from Yuuri's side. He's been oddly numb and aloof, paralyzed within saying anything. Deep web has caged his heart, but Victor's movements and touches are yet brave and pleading, because if there is something Yuuri saw or is related to their present case he must open up. 

"Did something happen during the mission?" A strike of blood-curling anxiety ripples through Yuuri's body and Victor is terrified by the words that may follow. 

For his relief, he shook his head rhythmically. Victor is resting on his pillow againーwonderment distressing his thoughts utterly. He knew Yuuri better than a small town knew it's citizens, he' d benign and frail soul that could wither like a flower when winter's malevolence kisses it's petals. His Yuuri wasn't a machine, he was more than the hundred reasons Victor could think of his awesomeness. He's reached another peak, paying with the price of his safety and Victor was the one to take the lead when it happened. 

_I should have been here earlier._ Yuuri's remorse sound through Victor's head. And truthfully speaking, he can't not forgive him instantly. Victor himself said the same words to Yuuri a year ago when the enemy has a filthy, calloused hand pulling Yuuri's hair, using a rope to strangle him into a sink of dark water. Victor still thank every higher power that his weapon was properly loaded, that Yuuri's lungs had the stamina not to give up on the resistance of water. 

He'd been forced to scrub his skin with baking soda in the coldest, underground basement, with humid watery spots leaking from everywhere. He's been starved, drugged with cocktails so they could test his memories and it pulled their chain when he didn't stop saying Victor's name through the creepy basement. He'd to be reassured that he couldn't skate anymore, even if Victor wanted to teach him, since the implant below his knee allowed just basic stretching over the glacial ice. _"Yakov can't do any jumps, neither! He is still the most respected coach, isn't he?_

There he breathes in his arms, the man who created them a brand new story every morning. The coffee won't go cold anymore. "It doesn't matter why Mari knew, the issue is why this footage even exists." 

"We'll find out." 

"My mother called me this afternoon," Yuuri began, shifting his position so he could face Victor, arms outstretched to hold him by his shoulders. "The same video was re-sent to her computer. It has no viruses. It happened a week ago, but since then she's received a letter about the sinner on blades. You are becoming a rural legend and attraction, but I highly doubt that's the main purpose of whoever is doing this."

"He may want power. Or it could be personal revenge. Relative of your previous boss?" 

"I don't even want to think," Yuuri admits, tired, hushed by the gust of wind twisting against the frosty windows. "If it's as you assume, he's Japanese. Or she. They might have connection to Mari in some way, but she would have told me, wouldn't she?" 

"Don't trust anyone, Yuuri." 

"Not even you?" 

"You are impossible!" 

"I did turn off the cameras in the apartment. No one is spying you now." 

"We are equal then, I turned off your Japanese work phone," Victor giggles with a sudden hug, comforting himself with the scent lingering from Yuuri's skinーhormones, thick of desire. "If someone is about to get a bite of you, it will be me tonight." 

"Oh, sweetheart." Yuuri preens at the sight of his husband's body grinding in circular motion over him. He is particularly rubbing himself over the slick trace of Yuuri's smooth upper thigh, new sensation pooling in his belly. Oh he was so hot and gradually stimulating Yuuri with lazy strokes. "You are the most vicious and innocent weapon I have in my repertoire." 

Victor's smile is astute as he picks up his pace, leaning closer to catch the meaty, responsive bottom lip Yuuri licks with turmoil in between in teeth, minty toothpaste lingering between the long kisses. 

"Let me have a smoke," Victor suggests when Yuuri has finally settled in their bed, a hand under his lover's pillow to catch a whiff of the tempting, fragrant smell. "Sweet dreams, Yuuri." His heart leaps at the suggestive position, insanely cute and sleepy, Victor had the sudden urge to prep gentle kisses of forgiveness and care up his face. 

He opens the cigarette box, knowing his heart is sleeping safe and sound in the other room. _It was enough._ Matchstick was fired, smoke exhaled. Victor now realized why intuition existedーit gave items sensation and meaning beyond explainable, it gave him common sense for things he couldn't understand completely. Not that everything needed a fixed answer, but the man whose life was a huge cliffhanger of blood and repugnance has healed by using some power unknown to the pragmatic Victor. He's starring into the slushy snow, the foggy and grim city that's been dead. _It's enough that he will be okay for tonight._

The cigarette boxes was right next to him, words written on the inner part, however Victor was too preoccupied to read them. _For the sinner on dancing blades, your chains will be pulled soon 'sweetheart'._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm only 17 and English isn't my native language, so excuse any mistakes or errors, i'm still learning (furthermore terrible at editing). Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on my Instagram @dark_nikiforov if you ever have a request

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! I have another completed story on similar topic published here called 'Innocent', so spare a minute to check it out if you haven't. 
> 
> Just to mention that English isn't my native language and I'm still in high school so excuse any errors or mistakes! There is always a room for improvement and i'm still learning. Find me on Instagram if you want @dark_nikiforov
> 
> Comments are much appreciated! Thank you for reading.


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